In BG3, though, old dungeons are full of rotten food that’s nearly worthless at shops and will make you temporarily sick if you eat it.
(Though it’s still odd that vendors are willing to buy extremely rotten food for 1 currency each. Honestly, they shouldn’t be willing to buy it at all.)
Suspends disbelief a little that the food is still rotting in centuries-old dungeons. Maybe should have some completely dried-out fungus in the vague shape of the food, that collapses into dust when your presence moves the air that’s sat motionless for decades.
Not that the DnD economy makes any sense anyway, of course. Bret Devereaux, in amongst his other excellent writings, did an excellent explanation of why “gold currency” wasn’t a thing in historical times; he’s written specifically about BG3’s armour problems as well.
In BG3, though, old dungeons are full of rotten food that’s nearly worthless at shops and will make you temporarily sick if you eat it.
(Though it’s still odd that vendors are willing to buy extremely rotten food for 1 currency each. Honestly, they shouldn’t be willing to buy it at all.)
Suspends disbelief a little that the food is still rotting in centuries-old dungeons. Maybe should have some completely dried-out fungus in the vague shape of the food, that collapses into dust when your presence moves the air that’s sat motionless for decades.
Not that the DnD economy makes any sense anyway, of course. Bret Devereaux, in amongst his other excellent writings, did an excellent explanation of why “gold currency” wasn’t a thing in historical times; he’s written specifically about BG3’s armour problems as well.
Maybe they got some mad profitable composting business on the side.